Nope! Haven't forgotten about this one. Just ran out of ideas and lost the file while I kept all of the ideas. Sucks too, I remember some funny ones. Just, obviously don't remember them THAT well. ;)

Enjoy!

Jackie

Part 41 - Just A Little Tight

I pause outside the door to Mac's apartment when I hear some sort of, animal like noise coming from inside. "What the. . ." Curious, I press my ear to the door and hear her voice hitting the kind of octaves that it only does when we're making love.

Okay, I am logical, I know she won't cheat on me, but the fact that Assassin is doing his one and only 'my owners are getting it on' howl, has me, slightly worried. I remain against the door, certain that at any moment, Mac's neighbor will have me arrested for doing the peeping tom/date rapist thing.

"Oh, yes!" Mac moans out, followed but something of a disappointed groan. "I know it's tight! But, c'mon!" She grunts again, the moans and. . .oh jeez! Assassin's howling is now louder. You know, standing out here, from this vantage point I realize that, her neighbors must not like us very much.

Anyway, back to the case at hand. I hear something being knocked over, a lamp by the sound of it and then hear Mac loud and clearly. "Shit! This wasn't part of the plan."

Well, you know what they say about the best laid plans. She grunts out once more and that's when I've latterly had enough. Using my key, I try the door only to realize that I've just locked myself out. Which could only mean that the door was unlocked to begin with. "What the hell is going on?" I unlock the door and step in, unbelieving that Mac had left the door unlocked while she was. . .doing cartwheels?

Or attempting to, I think.

After dropping my briefcase and placing my cover on the top of the coat rack, I turn my head to the side, trying to better gauge what was going on. Mac's wearing jeans and an old, girlie, wife beater that she uses only when cleaning the house. It's a grungy look, but that doesn't stop her from looking sexy. She's standing, feet, shoulder width apart, knees bent and her head down, almost as if she's trying to stretch or touch her toes. Mac grunts out again and Assassin, who is jumping up and down around her starts to howl.

I lean against the closed door, watching with great interest as she squats down, really low and then has this whole issue when trying to get back up. Like a wild animal, she claws. . .erm, reaches for the sofa and then pulls herself up, an action that makes her look like she's been taking classes at mime school. Next she flops to the floor, rolls on her back and brings her knees up to her chest.

Maybe this is something she learned in the Corps? Some sort of Marine, death, relaxation? I dare to make myself known, when she stands back up. "Umm, Mac?"

"OWW!" Oh shit! I broke her!

"Mac!" I race across the room to my fiancé who, in the middle of trying to do a split was, shocked by my presence and, apparently injured.

Mac's grabbing her left inner thigh with one hand and smacking me with the other. "Do. Not. Sneak. Up. On. Me. Ever. Again!" She punctuates with each smack and then, realizing she can't get up by herself, gives me her hand. It's amazing how quickly Sarah MacKenzie's facial expressions can go from irritated to sweet and saccharine, to just plain cute!

While she's quite thin – not unhealthily so, but you get my drift – trying to raise up her dead weight is a bit of a feat in the position she's in. I manage but not without her biting back about twenty different curse words and a few that I am positive I've never heard before. "Woah, there Marine." I ease her onto the sofa and then stand in front of her, hands on my hips. "Can I get you something?"

"Water. Advil." She huffs out, her hand still clutching her inner thigh. "I think I pulled my groin muscle." Okay so she wasn't grabbing her thigh, I sigh.

"Ouch." I've had that happen once while playing B-ball with Sturgis, not fun, not pleasant. Hurts like hell. "Hang on a sec, let me get one of the compression packs in the microwave."

I hear her groan out in frustration, apparently this just wasn't in the agenda of whatever she was doing. "Great. . .Just freaking great! Forget the pack, Harm, I won't be able to get out of these jeans!" She yells.

When I step out of the kitchen with the water and Advil, I find Mac with the button and fly of her jeans undone while she sits there with an arm draped over her eyes. "Here, babe." I feed her the Advils and Mac takes the water, taking a big gulp before going back to her original position. I probably shouldn't ask, but. . .curiosity and that damned cat. . . "Don't kill me, but. . .what the hell were you doing? It sounded like you were getting it on in here. . .Ooops."

Okay, so I really didn't mean to say that last part, but. . . Mac peaks at me with one open eye and still manages to do that eyebrow thing. It's not the cute eyebrow thing either, this is the. . .Oh, here it comes. "You gotta be kidding me right?" She snorts out with laughter. "Oww." She winces and then continues laughing again. For a good two minutes she is caught between a wincing and laughing spree then stops abruptly.

"It wasn't funny, Mac. . .Then I hear the lamp getting knocked down and walk in to find you. . .doing cartwheels."

She's laughing again and making me squirm in the process. Damn that woman. My frustration grows with each second that ticks by. Finally fully annoyed, I fold my arms across my chest and stand in front of her in a pose that is so like mom's it's scary. "Mac."

Waving one finger at me, she asks for a second as she takes a gulp of water. "God, I can't imagine what that must have looked like to you."

"It was amusing, that's for sure."

She fights laughing again, and then blurts out, "I was stretching my jeans." Her face takes a deep shade of pink. "They were a just a little tight. . .and you know, when they are tight you usually need to do some sort of gymnastics to get into them."

Gymnastics! "Holy Hell, woman, how tight do you buy your jeans? You know, I really don't get you females with the tight jean thing." Really, isn't breathing more important?

That look of pain disappears completely to be covered by an utterly sinful look. "Baby, if we don't buy our jeans slightly tight, our six wouldn't look as nice in them."

Seriously, how can you argue against that logic? "Okay, I can't argue with that. . .but, maybe buy them a little bigger." She can buy a paper bag for all she wants, Mac would still look hot!

"They are only super tight because of you." She points out, that sinful look disappearing by the second. "You washed them."

"You normally wash dirty clothes. At least, I do." And so does she, I mean I've seen her putting her jeans in the wash!

Mac nods. "Yeah, but you don't stick the jeans in the dryer. . .At least, not unless they are stretch jeans. . .I mean, you stick them in the dryer and then they get so tight that not even a Barbie doll could slip them on."

Alright, now there's a logic I can and will argue with. "Mac, I dry my jeans all the time and I still fit in them." With some light aerobic seeing as I am not the type to walk around with jeans that hang six feet away from my ass with my boxers showing.

"Uh huh, and I've seen you getting into them. . .You do this. . .jump and twist."

"Jump and twist?" What, now she's stalking the way I put on clothes? Okay, fine, so it boosts my ego! "I don't jump and twist."

Her chuckle says otherwise. "Yes you do. . .You sit on the edge of the bed to slide them up to your thighs, and then, you stand up, jump a few times so that they slide up and the twist so that they settle into place. . .I've seen you do it and, I gotta say, you got some nice moves, flyboy. . .I mean, I'd show you but I am in a slight bit of pain here." She finishes with a saucy grin and a wink.

Alright, so maybe. . .maybe, she has a point there, though I've never caught myself jumping and twisting before. "Okay, fine, so we all like to buy 'fitted' jeans." I am not calling them tight, I am choosing to call them fitted, so hah!

"Fitted? Okay, fine. . .fitted it is." Curling her index finger, she beckons me over and plants a soft kiss on my lips. "I might need some help getting out of these jeans."

Ah, one of the things that I am good at. Really, I am! I can have Mac's jeans off of her in two fluid motions. That has to count for some Guinness record. "That's a Rabb specialty."

Mac nods in agreement, then places a hand on my chest. "Yup, however, a little more than two motions is going to be needed for this event. . .and, where's the hot pack?"

I sigh, then head towards the kitchen. Marrying Mac is definitely going to be an adventure, that's for sure. But I do have to agree with one thing, her six does look good when those jeans are just a little tight.